


Adventures in Heart-Breaking

by poppunkpadfoot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Community: HPFT, Dysfunctional Family, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppunkpadfoot/pseuds/poppunkpadfoot
Summary: Dumpstr: We take out the trash so you don't have to!Remus Lupin is a bicycle courier for a breakup app. Walburga Black has a very odd request for him.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 211





	Adventures in Heart-Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my incredibly late entry for down-in-flames's Modern AU Challenge on HPFT! This fic is the brainchild of myself and Emma (facingthenorthwind) and was inspired by, of all things, a Japanese Adidas commercial. If you want to watch it on Youtube, you can search "Adidas Originals / Safety Wear Collection 'Split Up Service'".
> 
> As always, thank you to Emma, who dragged me kicking and screaming through the past month and a half of writer's block until I finally managed to grind this story out, and who jumped in at a few crucial moments to get me un-stuck. Also thanks to Unwritten Curse on HPFT for reading this over and giving me feedback! And thanks to Taylor for running this challenge and being so patient with my lateness :P

Remus Lupin was no stranger to odd requests. Making a living as a courier on Dumpstr made it more of a job description than a hazard. He’d been taking requests on the app for just over six months now, and he was pretty sure he’d already seen it all. He had ended engagements, served divorce papers - on one memorable occasion he had cycled halfway across town to send a breakup text from a woman’s phone, despite the fact that breakup texts were a service they offered remotely. (Apparently, she thought the end of a three-year relationship “deserved more” than a breakup text from an anonymous number, but she couldn’t bring herself to send the text herself. Remus rather thought that the end of such a long relationship probably “deserved more” than a breakup text in the first place, but she was paying him, so he kept his mouth shut.)

He had a feeling, though, that this afternoon’s job was going to be unusual even by his standards. There weren’t many details included in the request he’d been assigned by Dumpstr - all he really knew was that he’d be hand-delivering a letter. That wasn’t that unusual in and of itself - but the house he’d just pulled up in front of certainly was.

It was a row house, just one of many identical houses on the block; but while many of the other houses looked lived in - not quite unkempt, but far from pristine - the same couldn’t be said for Number Twelve. Somehow, it managed to look almost stately. Also - and there was no other way he could possibly put this - its vibes were terrible. He honestly felt some trepidation as he locked his bicycle to the fence and approached the front door.

He lifted the knocker, but before he could even bring it down, the door swung open right out from under him, revealing a young man with high cheekbones and short black hair who could not have more clearly been waiting for him in the hallway.

“Are you the courier?” the young man asked, a strange expression on his face. (If Remus had to guess, he’d say that he was trying very hard not to look guilty.) “From Dumpstr?”

“Yes,” Remus said, slightly taken-aback. “Are you -” He glanced down at his phone, just to make sure he’d got the name right, because it was an unusual one (and that was coming from him). “-Regulus Black?”

“I am,” replied the young man. “Please come in.”

Remus, not without hesitation, stepped into the hallway. Despite his initial impression of the house from outside, he still managed to be surprised by the unpleasant interior. It was austere and uninviting; the expensive-looking wallpaper and ornate antiques on display made him feel both out of place and unwelcome.

He was about to ask about the job, wanting to get on his way as soon as possible; but before he could even open his mouth, Regulus was walking away down the hall, beckoning for Remus to follow him. “This way,” he said. “My mother is waiting for you.”

Remus blinked, his feet not moving. “Your mother? Wasn’t it you who -”

“She doesn’t know how to use apps,” Regulus explained. “I just put in the request for her, she was going to use a carrier pigeon or something if I didn’t. Come on - she won’t tip you if you keep her waiting much longer.”

That got Remus moving. He followed Regulus up the stairs (past several elaborate portraits done in oil paint, all of which gave him the distinct feeling he was being watched) and into what appeared to be a study, where a severe-looking woman was sitting behind the imposing wood desk. She was writing something with intense concentration, and didn’t pause to look up when they walked in, not even when Regulus announced, “Mum, the courier is here.”

Remus was, by this point, fully expecting that he would be serving someone divorce papers. Probably some high-level executive wearing a ridiculously-expensive suit and cheating with his receptionist, and who, given the time of day, Remus was probably going to confront in his fancy office. Not pleasant (and probably not a job for which he’d be getting a decent tip), but at least it was something he’d done once or twice before.

What he was _not_ expecting was for the woman to sign her paper with a flourish and, still without so much as glancing up at him, say crisply, “I need you to disown my son for me.”

He stared at her for what felt like several minutes, but which in reality was probably only a brief moment, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly until he managed to choke out, “I - sorry, what?”

His eyes flicked over to Regulus on the other side of the room; but Regulus shook his head subtly and mouthed _‘Not me’_. He was looking increasingly miserable. The woman, meanwhile, pressed on as though he hadn’t spoken at all. “Regulus tells me he put Sirius’s address in your… _app_ … and I don’t know it, so I suppose we’re relying on that.”

A different son, then. Remus went to protest - he wanted to tell her that this was _absolutely not_ Dumpstr’s intended purpose, and that he was absolutely not comfortable getting involved in this situation, whatever the specifics were. There was a tiny voice in the back of his mind pointing out that really, it was a bit hypocritical of him to be opposed to this job when he broke hearts for a living, but… it just didn’t sit right with him. There was always the possibility that this son was a total asshole who deserved to be disowned, but that really wasn’t the sense he was getting, based on this woman’s attitude and the way Regulus was staring at his shoes. Before he could say anything, though, the woman finally looked up. As soon as her eyes landed on him, her nose crinkled up (possibly due to his faded t-shirt, or the hole in the knee of his jeans), but she didn’t comment - just held out the letter, which she had folded neatly.

“You’ll take this to Sirius immediately. I imagine he’ll destroy it somehow, but that’s his prerogative. You’ll have already read it aloud to him, so it’s no matter.”

“Read it out loud?” Remus repeated dazedly. He was starting to hope that Regulus or his mother would announce he was being punk’d - perhaps a camera crew would emerge from somewhere and ask him to sign a waiver? - but no such luck. Instead, the woman fixed him with an impatient glare.

“What, are you deaf?” she snapped. “Yes. I expect you to read it to him. I expect you to send an audio recording as well, Regulus says your _app_ can do that. If you just hand the letter over, he’ll destroy it without reading it, and _you_ won’t have done your job. Am I making myself clear?”

Remus did not want to take this assignment. Every bone in his body was telling him that this was an absolutely awful idea, and that he should walk out right now. But it had been a slow week, and his rent was due on Monday, so he wasn’t sure he really had a choice; so he swallowed a sigh and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without looking her in the eye, he walked forward and took the letter. She then proceeded to literally shoo him away, flicking her hand at him as she looked down at whatever she was working on. Both he and Regulus were clearly dismissed.

“Can you tell him I’m sorry?” Regulus asked awkwardly when they reached the front door, and Remus really wished he hadn’t, because that made biting his tongue and getting on with the job much more difficult than it already was. _You’re the one who hired me_ , he wanted to point out - but he was doing this despite his misgivings because he needed the money, and therefore arguing with the client was not advisable. Instead, he just stared at Regulus with raised eyebrows until he dropped his gaze and mumbled, “Er… never mind,” down at the carpet.

He spent most of his bike ride over to… Sirius? Sirius’s place trying to distract himself from the sickening feeling of guilt that had settled into his stomach by thinking about his rent cheque. It didn’t work. By the time he pulled up outside the address displayed in Dumpstr, he felt a sense of looming dread, which only intensified as he made his way up the stairs and stopped outside the apartment listed.

He knocked right away before he could completely talk himself out of it, and was in the middle of giving himself a silent pep talk when it opened and literally all thoughts left his mind immediately.

“Can I help you?” asked the most gorgeous man Remus had ever seen in his fucking life, because he really needed _that_ complication thrown onto this shitty pile. There was, unfortunately, no doubt in his mind that this was Sirius Black, because he bore a strong resemblance to Regulus; he had the same high cheekbones and dark hair, but where Regulus was passably attractive, his soon-to-be-ex-brother was stunning.

“Are you Sirius Black?” he asked, just to be sure. (It was essential that he always confirmed identities _before_ doing the deed.)

“Who’s asking?” the man asked, leaning against the door frame with an easy smile on his face. (Was it… was it hot in here suddenly? Because Remus suddenly felt very hot. God, this was so unfair.)

“I, er - my name is Remus, I’m with… with Dumpstr.”

“Isn’t that like… is that that breakup app?” Sirius asked in apparent surprise - surprise which Remus shared in, since he usually had to explain to people what Dumpstr even was. “I read a Vice article about it the other day.”

“Yep,” said Remus, “Yeah, that’s - that’s us.”

“Wow,” said Sirius, brushing aside a strand of hair that had escaped from his bun. “Well, uh - sorry, but are you sure you’re in the right place? Just - as far as I know, I’m single, so…”

“I’m positive.” Remus was somehow managing to sound somewhat professional, so that was… something, at least? “I’m here on behalf of your mother.”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up, and he crossed his arms over his chest (which drew Remus’s attention straight to his tattoos, because he was a terrible person. Fucking hell, he needed to focus.) “My mother figured out how to use an app?” he asked drily. “And - how did she even get my address? I sure as fuck never gave it to her.”

“Technically _she_ didn’t use the app - Regulus -”

A flicker of… _something_ passed across Sirius’s face. Disappointment, maybe, but it was gone so quickly that it was hard to say for certain. “Right,” he said, “of course. So… what does my dear old mum have to say?”

It seemed to take Remus an age to get Dumpstr open and the recording function working. When he finally managed it, he unfolded the letter (which, thankfully, he managed to do without, like, dropping it or something) and cleared his throat.

“Sirius,” he read. “I’m sure this letter will come as no surprise to you, given that you have chosen your lifestyle over your family -”

Sirius let out a genuine, almost delighted-sounding snort, which almost (almost) distracted Remus from tripping over the word ‘lifestyle’ - was that supposed to mean what he thought it was supposed to mean?

“- but your father and I have decided that it’s past time we formalized the choice that you made five years ago. We had hoped, naively, that you might be going through a phase, and might renounce your perversion, but -”

He cut off abruptly, his face burning (he could feel the heat in his cheeks, and dreaded to imagine what he looked like), when his eyes landed on the next sentence.

“You can stop, you know,” said Sirius, who sounded distinctly amused. That was unusual, and not at all the reaction Remus had expected, but was probably preferable to him dissolving into tears, at least for Remus’s conscience. “I think I’ve got the picture. ‘You’re a disgrace to our family name, you heinous homosexual pervert’, yadda yadda. Right?”

“I’m contractually obligated to read the whole letter,” Remus managed.

“That seems unenforceable.”

“I have to send an audio recording when I’m done.”

“Ah.” Sirius nodded, still not seeming particularly bothered. “Well, I guess you’d better continue then.”

“Right,” said Remus, very much wishing a lightning bolt would appear from the sky and kill him where he stood. “Well. Er - ‘but you have made it clear that you place more value on sodomy than you do on your family’s honour.’”

Sirius immediately burst out giggling. Remus could hardly blame him, as that was possibly the most absurd sentence he’d ever read in his life, but he was honestly still thrown off-balance by the way this whole thing was going.

“You have been removed from both mine and your father’s wills, as well as from all family records. You are no longer welcome at 12 Grimmauld Place, and we will respond to any trespass with a call to the police. Any attempts to otherwise contact us will be met promptly with a restraining order.

Walburga Black”

As soon as he finished reading, Remus started fumbling with his phone, turning off the Dumpstr recording feature with clumsy fingers and sending the mp3 off to Regulus. He then held the letter out to Sirius, not meeting his eyes. “I’m supposed to give this to you.”

Sirius took the parchment from him and scanned it, while Remus stood there awkwardly. He should _probably_ have left the second he sent the recording, but he seemed to be rooted to the spot. He felt like he needed to… apologize, or something? _Technically_ speaking he hadn’t personally done anything wrong, but he still felt terrible. But right as he opened his mouth to speak, Sirius reached the end of the letter and - and threw his arms over his head.

“This,” he declared, “is the greatest day of my life.”

“Congratulations,” Remus blurted out, and wanted to hit himself. Now he _desperately_ needed to leave, except his feet still didn’t want to move, which meant if Sirius punched him (which he would probably deserve) he would surely take the hit head-on. Sirius did not, however, punch him; instead he _grinned_ at him, and Remus might have literally swooned if he weren’t still dying of embarrassment.

“I need to celebrate,” Sirius said, without a single hint of sarcasm. “Maybe - do you want a drink? I think I have some nice rum around here somewhere, do you… fuck, is it weird for me to ask you to come in? Do you want some rum?”

Was it a _good_ idea to cut his workday short to drink mid-afternoon in a (incredibly handsome) stranger’s flat? No, probably not. However, Remus’s mouth had apparently not gotten that memo, because he heard himself say, after a brief pause, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Brilliant!” Sirius grinned, and grabbed Remus by the hand to drag him into the apartment.

Next thing Remus knew, he was sitting at this stranger’s kitchen table with a generous rum & coke in front of him. It was mid-afternoon - and that was if he was being generous - but he was having a fucking _day_ , and he currently had little-to-no willpower in reserve.

“Cheers!” Sirius tapped his glass against Remus’s and took a sip. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

"Honestly, I was expecting you to be much more torn up about this," Remus admitted. "I was kind of freaking out all the way over here."

"Nothing to be torn up about," Sirius said with a shrug. "I haven't even seen her since I was sixteen. She used to send angry letters sometimes, but it's been years since she's even had my address. It's no skin off my back if she wants to formalize things."

Sixteen? That detail on top of the hate speech in the letter painted a picture that Remus really didn't like. If he'd been put off by Walburga Black standing in front of her in her drawing room, he more or less loathed her now - although technically speaking he had no horse in this race.

"What a bitch," he blurted out, clapping his hand over his mouth as soon as he realized what he’d said. (He had ostensibly given up on maintaining an aura of professionalism, given that he was currently drinking alcohol in his "dump-ee"'s kitchen, but still.)

Sirius, though, didn't seem to mind Remus's appalling manners. He burst out laughing, his glee written all over his face. "Oh god, was she horrible to you? I bet she was, wasn't she. I mean - I quite like your shirt, so I can only imagine she hated it, and I remember what she's like in general, so..."

Remus couldn't help but laugh as well as he recalled the way Walburga's nose had crinkled when she looked at him. "Trust me, I _really_ wanted to tell her to fuck off. I would've if I could've afforded to."

"Well, good thing you didn't, you've genuinely made my day with this."

"As much as it's a relief that you're not upset, I'm sure karma will still find a way to get me." Remus shook his head, trying to appear desolate, although his mouth was twitching traitorously. "I bet someone's outside stealing the handlebars off my bike as we speak."

"Wait," said Sirius, putting his glass down on the table a little too heavily. "You biked here from Islington? Isn't that a pretty long ride?"

Remus shrugged. "It was about 40 minutes? I've definitely had to travel further before."

"Your job sounds exhausting. You should get a motorbike, that would make your life easier."

He neither looked nor sounded like he was joking, but surely he must have been, because there was no way he'd looked at Remus and thought, "Ah, yes, here's a biker if I've ever seen one". Usually people’s first impressions of Remus were more along the lines of “probably plays D&D” or “reads alone in his apartment on Saturday nights instead of going out”. (Neither characterization was entirely accurate, but he was well aware of the vibes he gave off.) However, before Remus could laugh, or dismiss the idea, Sirius drained his drink and stood up. 

“D’you want to have a go on mine?”

Remus opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He opened it again, feeling monumentally stupid. “I can’t drive,” he said at last.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t let you drive her. You seem like a good bloke, don’t get me wrong, but I spent so long restoring her, I won’t even let my best mate drive it. You can sit behind me, see the sights, feel the wind on your face, that kind of thing.” There was a teasing tone in his voice, but no bad humour in his face, and he had picked up a set of keys that had been sitting on the table.

Any lingering concerns that Remus had had about professionalism were gone, pushed out by the image of himself all pressed up against Sirius with his arms wrapped around his waist. He was going to _faint_. Wouldn’t that be a story for Sirius to tell his best friend. _’Yeah, today some guy came over and disowned me, then I offered him a ride on my motorbike and he fainted in my kitchen.’_ Very appealing stuff.

But honestly he was… he was considering it. This day was already fucking weird enough; he _might as well_ risk death by accepting a motorcycle ride from a very hot stranger. He didn’t get a chance to make up his mind completely, though; he was still pondering it when his phone dinged with a Dumpstr notification.

For a second he was worried it would be Regulus-on-behalf-of-Walburga, making another insane request; instead it was a new job request, though thankfully this one was a much shorter trip. He pondered rejecting it and letting a different courier pick it up, but when he’d opened the app to check the notification, he’d seen Walburga’s tip, and it was frankly abysmal, so he still really needed rent money.

“That sounds… well, it sounds kind of terrifying, to be honest, but I would take you up on it, only… I’ve got another job,” he said, giving his phone a little wiggle, showing the Dumpstr app open.

“Oh, right. Well, I don’t want to get in the way of your gainful employment,” said Sirius, and he - maybe Remus was imagining things, but he was _pretty sure_ Sirius looked disappointed. “But - if you are interested, I could give you my number and you can text me if you’re free and decide you want to experience the thrill of a motorbike ride. Or, I mean, we could go watch a film or something.”

Once again, Remus’s mouth raced ahead of his brain, except this time he couldn’t complain, because what he heard himself say was, “Sure, that would be great.”

"Brilliant!" said Sirius with another heart-stopping grin. Remus resisted the urge to pinch himself. There was no way this could be happening right now - though he found himself more and more convinced as Sirius recited his phone number and he punched it into his contacts with slightly-shaky hands.

Sirius walked him to the door, and Remus lingered a second longer than he should have.

"So I'll be seeing you, then," he said, not quite meeting Sirius's eyes. Was he blushing again? He was pretty sure he was blushing again.

"Looking forward to it," Sirius replied, and sounded like he meant it. "Later, Remus - thanks again for the delivery."


End file.
